737 Readings | 4 Ratings

Before the Fallout We Traded Imaginary Friends Like Football Cards

 In 1994 you slung thirty dirty verbs & my sister’s pacifier over
the cinder block wall separating our house from the neighbor’s.

You might not remember, but then, you weren’t the one who had
to climb over & salvage it, pal; I always had your back, I was

the fixer. & yeah, we’ve been through this—I know you don’t
exist but I must admit, even 15 years later, when nobody’s around

I sometimes stick my fingers in ugly places, kiss electrical sockets
(with tongue), wrap my feet in used latex gloves. Maybe I can make

you scream Look at me! like Albuquerque, Winter ‘94, or moondance
backwards over tiled gangrene/mezzanine/Hippocrene; with

a little mescaline Pegasus’ll pick you up, pidgeon
, you told me
over & over. Take it slow, baby, no ketchup this time…that’s how I

got infected, see, when you jammed teeth into the lignin-lining
of my throat & croaked out spun-spazzy blues jams with a little

Dutch flavor. You littered careless symptoms like tossed Momo’s
pizza (“Slices as big as your head!”) over the craggy-grooved wood

ridges, buttered ‘em in a BK hold-the-tomatoes smile. Now I’m
delirious—ironic right? Some kind of fever dream where I see my

sister recoil from the snowball I chuck in her ear, or where I lick
the dirt off her pacifier & pass it back to her. From swine flu I

puke pulled pork on a shag rug, & from its grimy fibers biophys-
icists invent words for my words & letters with shit-eating grins.
Posted 07/03/11
Previously published in 42opus, Vol. 10, No. 2
Comments (0)
Would you like to leave a comment on this profile? Join Ink Node for a free account, or sign in if you are already a member.